


One. Two. And Three.

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Medication, Neurochemical Urges, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Rescue, Saving Him, distraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Damian's voice swam through Tim's mind, the words not making much sense but the tone of it something he'd so rarely heard when Damian knew he was around. He'd heard it directed at Grayson, had heard it even turned toward Jason once. But never himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For #7 in my writing challenge: [Neurochemical Urges](http://cadkitten.tumblr.com/post/145439748783/setepenre-set-deadcatwithaflamethrower).  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Hurt" by Johnny Cash

Tim's fingers trembled as he stared down at them, the ghost of his too-pale skin stark against the backdrop of his black bathroom countertop. Curling his fingers into a fist, he shifted to push his hand against his thigh, closing his eyes for a few seconds, hauling a shaky breath into his lungs. 

One breath. Two. Then three.

Opening his eyes, Tim stared into the mirror in front of him, finding the remnants of exhaustion still clinging to his face, the lines of stress between his brows, and the glossy sheen of the prescription drugs he'd taken the night before. A tremor slid through his body and he turned away, feeling sick to his stomach, empty inside from the emotional and physical torture of the night before. 

Pushing the curtain back, he stepped into the tub and leaned over to turn on the faucet, watching the cold water rush down the drain. Another tremor and when he closed his eyes, it was against the onslaught of tears that he just couldn't shake. 

One shaking breath. Two. The third hitching so hard he heaved just after.

Sliding to his knees, he pulled the plunger to turn on the shower above him, hung his head as the water pelted down on him, the heat set so high it was nearly punishment. 

Every drag of air went into his lungs torturously, every thought derailing the last, and it was only dimly that Tim realized he should have taken another dose. His fingers grasped the bar of soap from the ledge beside him and his fingers fumbled as he dragged it over his skin. 

This was pushing through. This was what he always did.

\--

Tim stood across from Bruce and Damian in the cave. He'd been called in along with the others on a case and while no one else had arrived yet, Bruce had decided to brief him anyway. Bruce's voice was almost a distant roar in Tim's ears, a backdrop to the baseline of static in his ears, to the thrum of so many thoughts that he couldn't quite stop from their attempts at overwhelming him. 

Even with his last precious dose of medication swimming in his bloodstream, it still didn't make the difference he needed it to. Still, he kept his fists loosely clenched at his side to keep the shakes from showing, still he kept his jaw clenched shut to stop the desire to grab the nearest object and chew it into oblivion, still he regulated his breathing so it didn't hitch on the way in and out of his lungs. 

Damian's voice swam through his mind, the words not making much sense but the tone of it something he'd so rarely heard when Damian knew he was around. He'd heard it directed at Grayson, had heard it even turned toward Jason once. But never himself. 

Flicking his gaze to Damian, he watched the concern blossom on Damian's face and then something that looked incredibly like _understanding_. 

This time, he heard the words, realized they were an _excuse_ the instant they left Damian's lips. "I will show Drake the notes _upstairs_."

Bruce didn't argue, that much Tim had to give him. He looked concerned, but he didn't say a single word and Tim couldn't tell if the concern was for his current state or of the potential that he was going to get his ass kicked again.

Damian all but shoved him in front of him and Tim fought against the clench of his jaw, against the very real threat of tears behind his mask once again. His mind swam with all the same thoughts, all the same anguish and he could feel it starting to consume him for what felt like the millionth time in so many days.

His feet hit the stairs and it was all he could do to stumble up them, all he could do to hit the right button to open the clock and stumble out into the study. 

He felt Damian's arm slip around his waist and he didn't question it, didn't recoil or even _fear_. More stairs beneath his feet and the heavy sound of a door closing behind him and then Damian's hands on his face, his touch gentle but insistent, peeling his mask free and then holding his jaw in one gloved hand. 

Tim could see Damian speaking, could see the way his lips moved, but he couldn't hear anything. His breath caught and held, stuck in a way that made him want to heave again. His stomach clenched and his hands balled into tight fists, his jaw gritting so hard the sound of it cut through everything else.

Damian's hand slipped to the back of his neck and an instant later, his lips were pressed against Tim's own. Soft. Pliant. 

Tim sucked in a shuddering breath. 

One. Two. And three.

Parting his lips to Damian's tongue, he allowed him entrance, met him in a rush of emotion that he couldn't quite place, trembling hands grasping at Damian's suit, fisting in the material as their tongues slid along one another.

Damian's free hand slid down over the front of Tim's suit, curling into the crossing belts over his chest and holding on as he deepened the kiss.

Tim whined into the kiss, his mind finally taking the offered detour, the static fading as desire took over. 

One step. Two and three.

Damian's back hit the wall and Tim was on his knees in an instant, fingers stopping at Damian's belt as his mind tried to tell him maybe this wasn't what Damian had been after. Maybe it had just been a distraction and Damian didn't _want_ this.

Distantly, he heard Damian's voice repeating his last name, but it didn't find him in a way that required his attention. Hitching breath after breath, the static consuming him again, starting a sickening rampage in his head.

"Tim."

His head jerked up as he sucked in a breath deep enough it should have made him dizzy.

"I am aware of what you need. Now do it."

Tim's breath came in as another gasp, stuck in his throat as his fingers reacted before his conscious mind could really process what Damian was telling him to do. His vision hazed for a moment and still his fingers worked, opening clasps he knew with a passing sort of familiarity until Damian's suit was open, until his cock was heavy against his palm.

Their eyes met for an instant, Damian having discarded his own mask while Tim had been distracted. Unclenching his jaw, Tim let go of his questions, let go of the fight he'd been putting up for well over two days to do what he _needed_ and sank into a more comfortable position, his free hand grasping Damian's hip as he worked him into hardness.

Closing his eyes, Tim leaned in and opened his mouth, allowing Damian's hand on the back of his head to help guide him down on his length. The feeling of his length sliding over his tongue was better than the feeling of the prescription drugs drowning his system.

One slide, two, three.

The static began to fade, replaced by a rush of blessed silence. The thoughts peeled away like rice paper, floating away on the ever lightening burden of his mind as he bobbed his head again and again. His tongue was slippery with saliva and the salt of Damian's pre-cum, the only sounds the hitch of their breathing and the slick glide of his mouth over Damian's length. 

Tim's hands both came to grasp Damian's hips, taking up his own pace as he fell into the mindless rhythm of desire, of the need to have something filling his mouth like this. Desire did what the drugs could never; pushing away the onslaught of thoughts, of horrible pain to shove what he was _doing_ font and center. 

Opening his eyes, Tim allowed himself to look up, finding Damian watching him, pure pleasure painting his features. He took in the way his pupils were blown, the color high in his cheeks, the _affection_ shining in his eyes, and Tim worked himself over Damian's cock faster, taking more and more of him until it was _everything_ Damian had to offer, until he was cutting off his own oxygen with each slide downward, until his mind was imagining Damian pushing up inside of him, filling him again and again.

Tim pulled his hands from Damian's hips, yanking his gloves off, tossing his gauntlets to the floor in favor of frantically starting to unfasten his own suit, _knowing_ what was coming.

Damian's hand held the back of his head and then he was thrusting, little desperate jerks of his hips as his face dissolved into an entirely different level of pleasure. 

Tim's hand wrapped around his own cock as he relaxed his throat and took everything Damian wanted him to take.

One stroke, two, and three.

Tim choked out a shocked little sound around Damian's cock and then he was cumming, his hips jerking against his own hand as he lost it all over Damian's carpet. 

Damian's head hit the wall, his hips arching toward Tim. His voice came out sounding strangled and Tim knew he was right there, right on the edge. "Suck _hard_. Please. _Please_ , Tim."

Tim pushed down all the way on his cock and gave him what he needed, sucking harder on him as he dragged his lips back up Damian's length. Silently, he counted to three and then pushed back down, relaxing his throat as Damian's cock twitched against his tongue and then Damian's hand was crushing him down on his cock, holding him there with a force that would have left most people gagging, but left him feeling satisfied instead.

He swallowed down the flood of Damian's release, kept swallowing until Damian let go of his head. Even then, he slowly pulled back up, licking along the slit to gather the last remnants of his cum, to clean him up just right before he settled back.

His lips felt faintly swollen and his mouth tingled with the abuse he'd just put it through. He turned himself and leaned heavily back against the wall, Damian sliding down beside him, reaching for his hand and tangling their fingers.

Tim stared down at their hands, at Damian's gloved one versus his own bare for the world to see and something slid into place inside his mind. The thought would have been absurd if he voiced it, was to some degree even in his own head, though it was nothing but the truth. Looking up, he found Damian watching him attentively, the barest hint of concern in his eyes behind the wonderment of what had just happened. 

One breath. Two. And three. 

Tim felt his lips curve into a smile, the pull of it something he hadn't felt in far too long. "Sometimes we all need saving."


End file.
